Blood of a Snake, Heart of an Eagle
by Shuturgal
Summary: "Being a Malfoy sucks. My parents favour the Avada Kevadra first, ask questions later approach and my aunt, rather than send me nice birthday cards, was more likely to use the Crucio curse on me for a bit of fun. You couldn't exactly suggest I was the best model for a friend in Gryffindor, house of the brave and valiant." ON HIATUS.
1. Mousey Brown Hair

**A/N: I have been itching to write this story for a long time and suddenly got the story for it together, so here we go.**

**Disclaimer : This is J.K's world, I merely live in it.**

When I was born, I had a shock of brown fluff on my head, rather than the usual icy blonde synonymous with the Malfoy name. My father, at first, accused my mother of cheating, since his side of the family had not had any other colour but blonde in over 100 years, and he'd hate to be the one breaking tradition. That, I came to realise over the years, was a common theme of the Malfoys, never wanting to part with familiar practice. Aside from the fact that he was petrified of 'He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named' (it was a well-known fact my father's boggart was Voldemort himself), I had to wonder whether that was why we were still loyal to him in the first place – for the sake of tradition. Oh, and obviously the unspoken fact that if we dared cross him, our family and lineage that my father was so achingly proud of would be gone in a second. Kind of annoying being part of a family that was wrapped around the finger of the darkest wizard in history. He may have seemed to have been killed by the infamous Boy Who Lived, but Lucius and Narcissa both lived on in the hope (or perhaps fear) that he would be back.

There was a lot of me that didn't go according to tradition. Though I had never met the man (using the term 'man' loosely for I had heard stories of his appearance) I grew weary and angry at the hold he had on our family. Though by this point I had been on the Earth for a decade, and so couldn't really make an informed decision considering the emotion I showed over Draco ripping one of my Doll's head clean off (I cried for days on end embarrassingly enough), there was a gut instinct that this life of darkness, backhand deals and sleaziness wasn't for me.

Apart from the fact I had boring, mouse coloured hair unlike my twin brother's cream locks, I was the strangest Malfoy you'd ever meet. At the age of three it was realised I was magical one morning when my mother was tied up in the house and couldn't take me to my favourite spot, the cliff top close to our house, to see the two eagles nesting with chicks in the rock face. So I decided I would bring the eagle to me. My poor mother was not impressed having to clear up after a very panicked, very large flapping eagle after my father had finally caught it and apparated it back to the cliff face.

After that it was decided I should start under my father's tutelage to hopefully become the next great Malfoy, brown hair forgotten in the face of the unlikelihood that poor Draco would ever show any magical ability. However to the anger of Lucius, I showed no real talent, aside in Quidditch, and what good was that to a future Death Eater? When would Voldemort ever show me respect if all I could do successfully was chase a red ball around a pitch?

But in my training and as I grew from infant to toddler to child, I grew harsh and rebellious as every pre-teen does. A life living in an unrelenting and chillingly cold manor house was not one for a kid to flourish under. My only friends were the statues and my only toys were the few threadbare dolls that were hanging on to life by a thread, literally. I devoured any and all books I could find, though most were on the delights of Dark Magic. My hair, missing the sun, became dirty dishwater blonde, to the further annoyance of my father who thought it looked cheap and muggle like.

So it was to everyone's delight when Draco finally showed magical aptitude, teasing me one day and making my favourite doll, Penny (_dreadfully muggle name, never say that aloud when we have visitors Aquila_, my father would mutter under his breath) disappear into thin air. From there, he was the gifted child. He had a talent for just about anything much to my father's joy. I became the twin that they kept at the back of rooms at parties whilst flouting Draco's talents in potion making or duelling. He had inherited the Malfoy skills, right down to his bleached hair. I however, had inherited slight buckteeth (albeit fixed shortly after birth with an awful tasting tooth-shrinking potion), riotous but boring brown hair and wide dark eyes, all from an apparently disgraced family member Nymphadora Tonks.

"_The shame of the family. All that power as a metamorphagus but she has to be working for the Order of the Phoenix as an Auror." _Lucius would often spit.

As a child, I personally thought she sounded amazing. At night I would tuck myself into bed and fall asleep dreaming of what it would be like to be Nymphadora Tonks. I imagined her to have a wicked sense of humour, an impish smile and the time to chat to anyone in the world. I also imagined her to be loved by all, to have suitors falling at her feet, to be so beautiful she blinded people yet she never grew pigheaded. I imagined her to be the most talented Auror around, fearlessly searching for Voldemort in an effort to bring him down single-handedly. On some nights, after spending a day watching Draco and my father bond from the sidelines, knowing that clasped shoulder or proud parental hug, I would even dream of the battle between Nymphadora and Voldemort, ending in some final witty partition shot at the arch enemy by the ever effortless Nymphadora and with a flick of the wrist and one silent incantation (Dora was obviously too good for verbal spells) he would be sprawled on the floor. Never again would he strike fear into my family's hearts.

When my letter came through for Hogwarts, it was a welcome relief from dreams that had been trotted out in my brain so much that if they were a book the binding would be broken and the ink fading. My father had thought of Durmstrang as a possible place of education but I liked the sound of Hogwarts much better. Apparently Nymphadora had attended it, and I couldn't wait to see what the school that my idol had attended would be like. My father begrudgingly accepted that we were to attend the Scottish school, and before too long it seemed we were standing at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters scanning the train from outside for an empty carriage.

The train journey was pleasant enough, my brother having met up with friends he had made already through the parties we attended. Both chubby boys who to me looked so similar I couldn't tell them apart. So I tended to talk to them as a unit, which worked pretty well as the joint total of their intelligence just about scraped as a normal human being.

Upon arriving however, I was awestruck by this impressive building in front of me. Having grown up in a dark, gothic manor I had never really seen any architecture that wasn't slightly gaudy, very dark and disturbingly menacing. But the building that stretched out across the horizon was magnificent. Barely paying attention to where I was walking, I stumbled into the boat that awaited us first years and didn't even notice the tiny jolt as it set off towards the school. The building seemed to scrape the roof of the sky with its towers. Lit up by the glass windows that led light flood out towards us, Hogwarts seemed like all my wildest dreams coming true in the blink of an eye. I imagined being able to run up in the towers, to dart through the never-ending corridors, to discover so many different routes to one place. Already my mind was nearly at the point of implosion from the adventures I was re-enacting in my head. I hardly noticed it when the self-steering boats drew up to the docks, nor did I think about fumbling my way out, being helped in part by my brother who didn't seem nearly as affected as I was. We climbed through the bones of the building, me still oblivious to the scenes around me, still in awe of the place I would call home for the next seven years.

So oblivious, in fact, that when the group grinded to a halt in a flagstone corridor I bumped into the back of Draco who hissed a warning at me. Shaken, I forced my brain to return to the matter at hand. An elegant, aged woman stood in front of us at the height of the stairs, wearing emerald robes and a matching hat. Immediately I felt a great wave of power and grace coming from her and realised that this is a woman I should be respectful of.

**(A/N: Parts of the story from here to the end are from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, either the movie or the book)**

She waited calmly for the initial excited murmurs to reach a lull before she spoke

"Welcome to Hogwarts." Her reedy Scottish voice should have sounded weak but the backbone of steel in her words assured me that this was not a women to be messed with, "Now. In a few moments you will pass through these doors and join your classmates but before you can take your seats you must be sorted into your Houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and .. Slytherin." She paused over the last, giving my brother a perfect opportunity to turn to the two baby-faced thugs he had acquired and grin, shooting an encouraging glance back at me. Every Malfoy had been in Slytherin since our father could remember, and it was his great hope that we would follow in those footsteps.

The women paused for a moment then continued, her voice quieter but just as effective, "Now while you're here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup…" she looked as though she was going to continue but at that point was cut off by a small boy, bucktoothed and big eared, leaping forward in a delighted cry. I couldn't make out the exact words but it seemed to be a name, judging from the fact instantly after it was uttered he picked up a frog from the steps in front of the woman. She curled her lip slightly, but continued.

"The sorting ceremony will begin momentarily." After that she walked towards the Hall, obviously meaning for us to stay behind. My brother had been muttering the whole way through her speech and seemed to finally gather the courage to speak.

"It's true then." His voice echoed through the corridor, and the majority turned to look towards him. I had to resist the urge to smother him before he said something to land himself in it. Once he was sure he had the others full undivided attention (he had always loved an audience) "What they are saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

I stared slack jawed at the boy in question. This was the kid who was supposed to have killed Voldemort? This little, very thin boy who's only, seemingly, distinguishable feature was his scar and emerald eyes? He stood up to the most powerful wizard in the world.. and survived?

Where on earth was I going wrong?

Draco turned to nod his ascension at his lackeys, "This is Crabbe, and Goyle." He gestured to each, and I made a mental note to remember each of their names in the correct order. "And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. My sister is over there." He gestured in my general direction, but I ducked before anyone could spot me. I heard a stifled giggle and darted my head back up, seeing that a red haired child beside him was smirking. I resisted the urge to shout at him to not bother winding my brother up as it would only end in violence or insults, a fact all my nearly dismembered dolls knew all too well.

"Think our name's funny do you?" Draco muttered, "Don't need to ask yours. Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley." He turned back to Harry, "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others Potter. I can help you with that."

The Boy Who Lived suddenly stood straight, and even from where I was I could see the fire sparkling in his eyes. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself thanks." He muttered and I felt a surge of admiration towards this boy who clearly had no problem making enemies with a powerful, old family like the Malfoys to protect his new friend. Longing surged inside me, I wished I had a friend like that. The closest I had was my imaginary Nymphadora, but even she could protect me from the many taunts I had received at the hands of my brother.

The aged witch came back out from the Hall and tapped Malfoy on the shoulder, "They are ready for you now, follow me."

Draco, his pride dented, muttered an order towards me "Come on Aquila." I followed quickly, but as I walked past the glasses-wearing boy I looked up and my eyes clashed with his. A brief moment of hatred, then confusion, marred his features. He clearly, like so many others, couldn't see the similarities between the two of us. I preferred it that way. After that show, I was glad I wasn't the exact same in looks as my 10 minutes older brother. I think I would have definitely been in for it if that had happened. Though my gait faltered for a second, I continued walking onwards with my head held high, as if I couldn't hear the whispers around me.

"Is she seriously Draco's sister? She looks so… boring."

"I heard they are rich."

"I heard their dad is a Death Eater."

"My mum told me…"

I tuned these rumours out, but I couldn't be angry at their source. Like anything new and slightly puzzling they pounced on it with a childish innocence and abandonment that you could not possibly be enraged at them. We stepped into the Great Hall and my jaw went slack. If I thought outside had been impressive, the inside was even more so. Candles hovered in mid-air giving the massive room a homey and warm feel whilst the ceiling looked more like a clear night of sky rather than structured brick. Four tables yawned across the perimeter of the room, with one large table sat at the top, where I presumed from the general age, was where the teacher's sat.

And there was Dumbledore. The man who even the Dark Lord feared. He seemed frail and too weak for the stories I had been told about him, the many plans he had foiled, the spells he had pulled off. But as he stood up and gave us a quick talk, I could see the spark in his eyes as he turned to every one of us and pulled off a cheeky grin at the end, I could suddenly see exactly why the Dark Lord was scared of him. He represented everything Voldemort wasn't.

The Sorting Hat was unveiled from the women's clutches and my stomach balked. My father had told me of this, telling me proudly on more than one occasion that as a young boy it had barely touched his head before it had screeched his rightful place in Slytherin. But for the first time, I wondered what it would be like to be in a house apart from Slytherin. A brave and strong house that had a lion as its banner, Red and gold colours signifying splendour, and no dark in the shadow deals unlike the various ones our father had discounted to me and Malfoy. But that would never happen, no way would I break hundreds of years of tradition, and hoping that I would simply because my hair was a different colour was foolish.

Unsurprisingly, Draco was named a Slytherin before the Hat even graced his head. With a cocky, self-assured grin he strode across to the table at the far left and took his seat. _Always following in Daddy's footsteps, _I thought sadly.

The auburn-haired boy who had earlier laughed at Draco earlier was placed into Gryffindor, and as I looked down at the table it wasn't surprising. Three other fellow red-haired boys sat clapping proudly as he took his seat. The fact the Sorting Hat seemed to choose according to families made my stomach sink lower. It was inevitable, I would be placed in Slytherin.

Harry Potter's name was called, and he approached the Sorting Hat with the same trepidation I felt watching him. The Sorting Hat took longer than it had with anyone else, muttering with him for what seemed like hours, undistinguishable mutterings coming from both it and Harry until it suddenly yelled, "No? Better be…. GRYFFINDOR!"

I felt a surge of happiness for the boy who beamed, almost lighting up the room, then ran to sit with the other first years who had been placed in the same house, clapped on the back by the boy I presumed was Prefect.

"Aquila Malfoy!" the women, who I assumed now to be Professor McGonagall from the murmurings I had heard around me, called out and my stomach just about fell right out of me. I approached the seat with shaky legs and sat down, waiting for the material to be placed on my head. When it was, it was quiet for a few moments.

"Oh this is peculiar… A brave and loyal spirit at war with your blood ties… Slytherin has always been the way with Malfoys." I inwardly groaned, "But you seem different, a bit more wild, a bit more honest and not quite as sneaky. GRYFFINDOR!"

And with that yell I was struck dumb, as was, seemingly, the rest of the Hall who knew enough about the Malfoys to know this was unheard of. I looked towards Draco, who's grin had slipped on his face and was replaced with a thunderous look almost the exact replica of our father when he was angry. I then looked towards my new House and again my eyes brushed with Harry's. He seemed incredulous.

This would definitely be an interesting year.

**A/N: I know some of you are probably like WTF IS A NAME LIKE AQUILA? In keeping with the majority of the Black household I named her after a constellation (yes! I did my research). Aquila (pronounced AH-KEE-LAH) is a constellation and latin for **_**eagle**_** which you will find will come in handy later on in the story. Sorry if I confused you, I was worried you might think "oh dear, desperately unique name SHE'S A MARY SUE" (cause that tends to be my train of thought when I read something like "Spartacus Centaurus Pixie Dust opened his book to.." so please don't think that, just trying to keep it as in character and canon as is possible)**

**Also I KNOW the meeting between Draco and Harry is on the train in the book, and not outside the hall, but it fitted so much better with my story to have them meeting inside Hogwarts than in the train. Please forgive me – I will always strive to be as canon as possible (either to the movie or the book depending on which fits better).**

**I'm awfully sorry it was so long! I just wanted to set a foundation to my character but then get far enough to finish on the Sorting, not quite realising how long that would take. I promise my chapters will be much quicker to whiz through the stuff that happens within the book which I'm sure you are already bone-tired of. However I recently read, I'm sorry to say, a pretty awful Harry x OC during school term that skimmed through the entire 7 books in 15 chapters and safe to say it wasn't pretty and very fractured and rushed. So be prepared that I will take my time, but I will make it worth it!**

**Please review! I won't publish the next chapter until I get at least one review? Please?**


	2. Roast Chicken Dinner

"GRYFFINDOR."

Minerva McGonagall had heard the Sorting Hat declare a descendent of Brutus Malfoy anything but a Slytherin only once in her lifetime, and even that had been more than enough. Looking at this plain, wraithlike looking girl it was almost laughable to think she might follow in the footsteps of her relative. _He _had swaggered into this room with a wry grin spread across his face, though when he had been sorted into Gryffindor even his massive smile had faltered a second in surprise.

_That_ sorting had been disastrous. Sometimes Minerva liked to think the Sorting Hat had a bit of a sense of humour, the result of which had been breaking the usual tradition of the descendants of Phineas Black being sorted into Slytherin.

The girl, she believed her name was Aquila (_classic Malfoy, such an oddity of a name_) stood with shaky legs and slowly made her way over to the red and gold table, walking in a daze. Minerva felt a wave of pity towards the girl as she observed the hostile stares and thick silence that followed her. Her next year would definitely not be the easiest. Neither would another newly sorted Gryffindor, though for entirely different reasons. Minerva's eyes were drawn to the young boy with a shock of black hair, the infamous scar just peeking out of the unkempt fringe. Already he had seemed to make friends with the Weasley boys, and from the exchange outside the Hall, made an enemy of the other Malfoy. It would be interesting to watch his reaction to the other twin.

Right enough, his eyes followed her as she moved to sit at the table, hiding her face in her hair and staring sullenly at the floor. A mixture of childish curiosity reined back by peer pressure – knowing if he reached out to her he'd be alienated by the Weasleys – flickered in his eyes. And the majority of the table had the same feelings. They were curious as to why this seemingly plain, boring girl had defied the unspoken rule that Malfoys were automatic Slytherins. To the untrained eye, the only difference seemed to be muddy brown hair rather than the usual cold blonde. However Minerva could see a multitude of differences, not least the way the girl carried herself. Despite the fact she surely had lived in the shadow of Draco all her life – Minerva remembered hearing stories of how gifted the young boy was – and despite the fact her head was slumped toward the floor, her shoulders and back were straight. To most this would indicate good parenting, but Minerva didn't believe that knowing Lucius. Instead she thought it favoured a strong will, as strong as her backbone.

McGonagall liked her already.

**HP-HP-HP-HP-HP**

**P**rofessor Trelawney was quite excited for dinner, not only for the well-known reason that she had a voracious appetite that matched her thirst for Divination. Speaking of, her talents in that were tingling, if that was the right word. Something was off about the young girl though she, embarrassingly, could not decipher whether this was a good or bad feeling. Her skill had been declining recently, though she would not admit this to anyone readily. She still maintained she was the best tea-leaf reader this side of the Atlantic. She was struck with an awful sense of foreboding so strong it almost overwhelmed her, and the reek of death cloaked her, so strong she gagged. But as soon as it clouded her, it departed.

For the girl's sake, she hoped this wasn't an omen.

**HP-HP-HP-HP-HP**

**S**nape was reeling in shock. The Malfoy girl, in _Gryffindor_? This could ruin everything, she had seen him at the Malfoy Manor many a time. What if she spoke of it to Harry or better yet any pupil, and they caused a spanner in the plan that had been slowly formulated over the past eleven years? He spared a glance towards Dumbledore, who merely looked on, clapping and smiling. He didn't seem concerned.

Snape had always thought something was different about Aquila. She was a rather small girl, but appearances were deceiving, and she reminded him more of a spitfire than a delicate wallflower. Unlike the other teachers around him, who marvelled and gossiped quietly about the turn of events that Potter had been placed in Gryffindor alongside a Malfoy, he wasn't surprised. If anyone would turn up in the wrong house, it would be Aquila. She possessed hidden qualities of ferocity that even she wasn't aware of. To have grown up in the Malfoy residence without being utterly compliant to Lucius' will and to not have been crushed by the end of it was admirable and indicated there was more than meets the eye about the little eagle.

He made a mental note to follow her and shrugged off the feeling of apprehension. He was sure if there were any problems, Dumbledore's sharp mind would be working on the answers quickly and silently, the genius that he was.

**HP-HP-HP-HP-HP**

Dumbledore just wanted to tuck into his roast chicken dinner.

**A/N: Sorry this is such a short chapter but the idea was inspired by Brown-Eyed Marauderette (Rae)'s review, and I tried following on from it back to Aquila's point of view, or even fellow pupil's opinons, but it didn't run smoothly plus I really wanted to end it on Dumbledore. So in apology I will have the next chapter up in a few hours or if not definitely by tomorrow evening. Sorry by the way about having to break it up with HP-HP-HP-HP-HP – I couldn't seem to format it any other way.**

**Honestly thank you so much to the lovely people who reviewed, I had such a massive smile on my face whilst reading them and it urged me to get this new chapter up as soon as possible! I have this story planned out so I think it's going to be fun just running with it.**

**However one question – do you think I should have the years all separate in different stories, or run them together in one big fanfiction? I just know that I hate it when I read something and reach the end to find there is going to be a ton of sequels, but at the same time I know that this is going to be a very long story so I understand it could be intimidating to a new reader to see like 100 odd chapters in one go when it is completed. (I know I would be)**


	3. Feeling like a Caged Bull

I was really beginning to tire of this silent treatment. Fair enough, I was a Malfoy. My parents favoured the _Avada Kevadra first, ask questions later _approach and my aunt, rather than send me nice birthday cards, was more likely to use the Crucio curse on me for a bit of fun. You couldn't exactly state I was the _best _model for a friend in Gryffindor, the house of the brave and valiant. Then again, I was the only one with my background and history paraded and gossiped about for everyone to see. _Thanks Dad, _I thought silently.

Still, the 'be horrible to Aquila' activities were wearing thin on my already stunted string of patience. I couldn't fault them, to be honest, if I had been brought up as they had I would probably feel the same and wouldn't put it past myself to have been one of the worst, the ones I dread. The ones who put rats in my breakfast and syrup in my bed then laugh about it later. Despite the fact these occurrences lead to big bouts of laundry and even bigger lies to cover up why, I couldn't even be bothered to rise to the bait which I knew they so desperately desired.

"_Are you sure she's a Malfoy? According to you Draco would have ratted us all out to his father by now. Maybe she's different?"_

"_Harry, she's definitely a Malfoy, Dumbledore and McGonagall think so too! You can't deceive Dumbledore. I'm sure she's just biding her time. We'll get her and then she will go back to Slytherin where she belongs."_

I loved the fact they thought they could get me out of Gryffindor. Believe me when I say I had already tried on numerous occasions to at least persuade McGonagall to talk to Dumbledore but to no avail. It was like talking to a brick wall.

"_I'm sorry Aquila but the Sorting Hat's decision is final. Clearly it saw something in you which made it decide to put you in a house separate from your brother but you cannot demand something as old as the Sorting Hat take back its decision simply because you don't like your house."_

Professor McGonagall had a point, not that I would care to admit it. However taking classes and being able to get my head down in class had made me realise something.

I truly sucked on a variety of different levels. I showed no talent in _any _subject it seemed whatsoever, except the ability to not burn myself like my partner in Potions. I was exceedingly average at everything I did, dipping below that on occasion, and nothing I did within class was something to write home about. Not that I would write home anyway, I'd probably receive a Howler from my parents expecting an answer as to why I wasn't as brilliant as Draco.

Despite this constant flaunting of how awful I was compared to the golden boy I couldn't hate him. He was my twin. When you spend that much time with a person in close proximity feeling mutual hatred towards the other every other hour of the day it is hard not to feel anything but very sisterly, protective love towards them despite their faults.

But the more and more he alienated me and ignored me, plus the fact no one in Gryffindor talked to me aside to insult me, made me feel like a really ticked off caged bull that was itching to get out and chase the red flag being repeatedly waved in front of me. When I had pictured Hogwarts, I hadn't thought it would be similar to the teen muggle stories I smuggled into my room to read every night with bullying, peer pressure and a social outcast. The social outcast however, always got the guy and the friends in the end. I didn't see that happening for me. All that seemed to stretch out in front of me was a lifetime alone alienated from family and friends.

So I came to find myself sitting in the library again, by myself, for what seemed like the hundredth time. Hopelessly trying to study more about Charms, I was worse at _Wingardium Leviosa _than Ron Weasley, and that was saying something. The words swam in front of me to the point I felt dizzy and not for the first time that day I wished I could be just that bit smarter.

Books slammed on the desk opposite me and I looked up, annoyed and ready to shush its origin when I realised I recognised the girl. Hermione Granger, I believed. The smart girl who had her hand up in every class at every question and got every potion, spell or theory right first try. I wanted to hate her, but I think the rest of the class were jealous enough without my added input. Besides, as being on the receiving end of an entire year's hatred, I knew how much it sucked.

Our eyes clashed all the same, and I stifled a laugh at the fire I saw in her brown eyes. So this mouse wasn't as meek and goody two-shoes as she seemed.

"Sorry, am I alright to sit here?" she asked politely and I then had to swallow a gasp. It felt like so long that someone had actually directed speech at me, aside from teachers, that it took a moment for my voicebox to sort itself out after the initial excitement and scramble to formulate words.

"No it's not." I croaked then cursed myself for sounding like a timid little five year old. "Feel free." I attempted a smile, which probably looked more like a grimace.

_Nice save you socially awkward idiot._

Silence reigned for a while after this, with only the crackle of pages being turned and the scratching of quills to accompany our thoughts. The Granger girl, however, seemed to get more and more fidgety, as if she was bursting to say something.

"This homework Professor McGonagall has issued us is quite a challenge isn't it?" she suddenly boomed, so loud I flinched slightly and Madame Pince shushed us disapprovingly from her desk. Hermione shrunk slightly, but then seemed to return to previous fervour.

"Sorry, I just wanted to ask…." She fretted slightly, "I don't want to appear rude…"

My mouth curved into a smile, "Ask away."

Hermione leant forward in her seat, a scandalized expression coming over her face, "Is it true you are the first Malfoy to be put into any house aside Slytherin?"

I laughed slightly, "Yes, unfortunately. Or at least, to the extent of my father's knowledge, which I assume from my Howler is rather extensive and so I'm the unorthodox embarrassment to have betrayed the family ties. Which is somehow my fault." My tone became bitter towards the end of my explanation and so I shot her a slightly apologetic glance for my behaviour. Half of me still found it so surreal to be talking to a fellow student, I wanted to pinch myself.

"See, all I've heard is that apparently you are someone to be avoided. I don't see why. It's not your fault who your parents are. Besides you can't be _all _bad if the Sorting Hat decided to put you in Gryffindor." Hermione suddenly became brisk and official, "Did you know the Sorting Hat was originally Godric Gryffindor's – one of the founders – and was simply an ordinary hat until the Founders decided to enchant it with brains and a small amount of personality. I read that in _Hogwarts : A History_." I smiled sagely, hoping it looked as though I was interested. "I mean my parents are muggles but I'm still a wit-" Hermione's voice tailed off and I looked, curious, towards her for the reason.

She looked down at the ground before seeming to straighten her shoulders, "Sorry… I heard the Malfoys don't like muggleborns."

A rage so icy it froze my heart threatened to consume me. "Why must everyone assume that because I am a Malfoy I must act like one? You are a girl, does that mean I should assume you are weak? Ron Weasley has red hair, does that mean I should assume he has a temper? I would never ever side with anyone who thought that just because you are not born of magical parents does not mean you have any less right to learn with the rest of us. Why do I have to be the one everyone singles out!" with that outburst, I gathered my stuff and stormed out the library, the effect slightly ruined by having to return library books and wait for them to get stamped and signed by Madame Pince. Despite that, I didn't turn back once, for I didn't know if I would start crying if I did.

The rest of the week passed similarly to what it had before the incident with Hermione, but now the hurt was even more grating having had a brief glimpse of friendship only to have it snatched away yet again because of my name. My heart ached and I even thought about sending a letter to my father begging him to send me to Durmstrang or Beuxbatons where I could hopefully make a fresh start. But to do that would mean to admit defeat to my parents and I wouldn't do that even with my last breath, that much I was certain of.

After a particularly gruelling lesson in Transfiguration where I hadn't really got past not making my match blow up, even though that was nowhere near the end goal of turning it into a needle, I dragged myself back to the Gryffindor common room, completely oblivious to the shouts that accompanied me.

"Aquila! AQUILA!" running footsteps charged up behind me until a hand grasped my arm. Shocked, I spun round and gasped. "For the love of!... Oh… Hermione." My gaze became cool, betraying the torrent of emotions that poured through my mind. Why was she here? What did she want? "Come to accuse me of something else I must do because my family does?"

Her brown frizzy hair fell forward into her eyes for a second as she looked troubled and I grew curious as an eleven year old does. Why did she want to talk to me? After a brief moment Hermione straightened her back as if trying to give herself the strength to continue.

"I wanted to apologise." The words came out in one jumbled rush, "I never meant to say that and I after you left I felt awful. I didn't think you were like what everyone else was saying. You seem too bright to look down on others just because of their parentage. Besides, you are a Malfoy who is in Gryffindor! I know my history – that's unheard of! There must be _something _different about you! There just must!" as she reached the end of her little speech her face grew more animated and her hands flailed about wildly, causing people walking past to give her a wide berth. Then again, those who were walking past were already leaving as big a distance as possible as they spotted me. Such was the joys of life.

"Thank you Hermione, but I should be apologising to you. It wasn't your fault you came to that conclusion, after all, I am a Malfoy." I shrugged, but at that last word Hermione hit me over the head. "Ouch!" as I rubbed the sore spot, she grabbed my arm.

"Aquila, don't let anyone else define you or tell you who you are or what to do. You are just lovely as you are, no need to change or apologise. It is my fault entirely for jumping to conclusions." She tentatively retracted her grasp and stuck out her hand. "Friends?"

I grinned and leapt forward to envelop her in a hug, "Definitely!"

**A/N: I have just realised that this is moving prettyyyy slow but ach well. Funny that it's a Harry x OC and Harry has only had maybe a few sentences. I was going to run on from this but decided against it because I liked the break. The next chapter will feature a few key scenes INCLUDING the first Harry and Aquila dialogue!**

**Sorry this was rather late but it's my final few weeks at school before exam leave and finals so it's been pretty stressful as teacher's try to get you to do tons of essays and lots of work. But have no fear I'll get the next one up as soon as I can! Got to say a MASSIVE thank you to my reviewers, you have no idea how happy it makes me to read your lovely reviews especially to AgentofFire and Brown-Eyed-Marauderette who have thus far been reviewing (and nice long, helpful reviews) my last two chapters! Please review / favourite / alert where you see fit.**


	4. Mudblood

**A/N: So sorry this has been so long – I've got exams at the moment! But rest assured I'm on a gap year after they are done so I will have lots of time to do this! I have changed and juggled a few things around, but rest assured it is for the benefit of the story which still flows in **_**overall **_**canon. Understand that this is not an OC where everything happens the exact same as it does in the books with only an extra name, I will be changing a few things!**

**I would also like to warn anyone who is a fan of Draco, I do not like his character and he will not come off lightly (at least in the first few 'books' of mine)**

**Disclaimer : Any characters, events or lines you recognise are all from the wonderful imagination of JK Rowling, I own nothing but my character. (In this particular chapter, anything you recognise is from **_**Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone **_**p. 109 onwards**_**)**_

Finally, the lesson I had been waiting impatiently for, Quidditch. While I wouldn't confess to thinking I was the next Joscelind Wadcock, I felt comfortable in knowing I would probably be one of the few who possessed a certain level of skill on the broom. Unfortunately I knew of one other who would probably feel the same. _Draco. _Why the Slytherins and Gryffindors had been placed together in class, I really couldn't fathom. Putting the two polar opposite houses together was surely only asking for trouble? Sighing, I set off towards the grounds with the other Gryffindors, the majority of which talked in excited, hushed murmurs about what they thought about Quidditch.

"I've never been good with a broom…."

"I wonder if we'll be flying straight away?"

"Madam Hooch is apparently super fierce!"

"I really hate flying."

The last confession was directed at me, and so I looked up at the source. Hermione had fallen into a walk beside my own, worrying her bottom lip. Shock reverberated through me. For Hermione to confess to something that wasn't either from _Hogwarts: A History _or how she got the best results in our last Charms class was unheard of. She rushed on once she realised I was listening.

"When we have travelled by plane, only a few times before mind you as my parents don't earn enough to go on holidays abroad an awful lot and each time has been a disaster because Dad always eats spicy food and gets sick… anyway I digress. What I mean is that I hate flying. Not being in control and one wrong move could mean tumbling to your death… it's just not natural! What if I can't control my broom and it goes flying up into the air with me on it?"

Hermione's words came out in a torrid rush of panic and I felt overcome with a surge of emotion for her, she had clearly gotten herself incredibly worked up about the whole class. Looping an arm in hers, I marched forward determinedly, "Don't worry about it! I'm sure Madam Hooch won't be making us go anywhere at all, and maybe the brooms have a limit on them so they can't go far anyway?"

I pretty much knew, inwardly, that this was highly unlikely but desperately wanted to comfort Hermione and make her feel safer. It wasn't every day that you were thrown into a world that previously you had known nothing about, and that challenged you every waking minute. At that moment I felt a searing sense of kinship towards the girl, understanding that what she felt was probably similar to what I felt about being thrown into Gryffindor, alone in a world that seemed hostile and unfamiliar with only yourself to guide you.

My words seemed to have an effect on Hermione, who shook herself and nodded. "You're right, of course, we'll be fine won't we?"

Luckily I didn't have to answer that question as we came to the grounds. The Slytherins had already arrived, and two rows, each with ten brooms, had been set up opposite each other. The Slytherins stood on one side, Gryffindors on the other, as if placing these small, breakable branches of wood could stop any fights erupting. Inwardly, I knew that if my brother or his goons wanted to make a stir, no broomstick was going to prevent them.

Our teacher, the one a fellow Gryffindor had called 'fierce', arrived before any commotion could break out, and I could see why anyone would think twice about getting on the wrong side of her. Her short gray hair stood up in all directions as if longing to break free, and she had yellow eyes, the same colour as the Hufflepuff banner.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she demanded, and I almost flinched, "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

I glanced down at my broom. Nothing like the Nimbus 2000 I coveted at home, it was old and obviously unloved. Twigs were sticking out at odd angles, like a broken bone, and I felt wary about even handling the thing lest it should snap, let alone getting on it and flying. I could suddenly understand Hermione's fear.

"Stick out your right hand over the broom," Madam Hooch called, "and say, Up!"

Everyone collectively shouted "UP!" at the same time, though only a few were immediately successful. My broom instantly flew up into my hand, and with a feeling of pride I clenched my fist around it. Looking around, I was surprised to note Harry Potter had the same reaction, also holding the broom whith a mixture of surprise and pride. Draco's broom lifted up shortly after my own, but enough of a pause that he turned to me and sneered. _Ah brotherly love, _I thought to myself with a sigh.

"So sis, enjoying being a blood-traitor?" I looked up at my twin and wondered what had happened to make him so vicious and cutting. Probably the two goons either side of him. Not for the first time I wondered why I had been put in Gryffindor, or better yet why Draco hadn't joined me. We were the same age, and although we were not identical, we still shared the very same blood, same birthday, same parents, and same upbringing. What made me different?

"I don't know what you are talking about Draco." I replied, not looking for a fight. I was bone-tired of fighting.

"Well, clearly you are not a Malfoy if you got sorted into another house. You've always had these stupid ideas Aquila, like wanting purebloods to live and work near _Muggles_." My brother spit out the last word like it was a disease. My father's brainwashing had been all too effective on Draco, unfortunately. Being brought up as the shining star of the family had clearly caused Draco to believe every word Father said, especially if it meant he was the one Father would call "my pride and joy" every day.

By this point, everyone had turned, leaving their brooms in the dust. Madam Hooch was trying to help Neville down the very end of the line, but from the looks of it was having limited success.

"I mean look, you are even hanging out with a _Mudblood._"

The whole class gasped, and I could see a flicker of fear in Draco's eyes as he realised perhaps he had gone too far. The fear he was feeling was nothing in comparison to the rage that coursed through me. Grabbing for my wand, which I held in my back pocket, I lunged forward.

"THAT'S ENOUGH AQUILA MALFOY." Madam Hooch, who had obviously just realised the drama unfolding, grabbed the back of my robes and pulled me back with the help of Hermione.

"Don't you _dare_ call my friend that Draco. She's a better person than you, clearly, will ever be." I hissed, struggling against my bonds. Finally reassuring Madam Hooch and Hermione I wouldn't go for him the minute they let me go, I stood trying to get my breath back, fixing Draco with a glare. Though he seemed shocked, I could tell my warning and near death-swipe had had very little effect on him. Why listen to the sibling whose own father had told him was mentally unhinged?

Looking around, I saw the rest of the Gryffindors stare at me, the majority's eyes glinting with something akin to awe and surprise.

"Aquila, I don't know WHAT has gotten into you. 5 points from Gryffindor." Madam Hooch was clearly thrown as to why a twin would lash out at her other sibling, but I couldn't care less. Turning to the rest of the Gryffindors, I was suddenly consumed with an anger at their unfair treatment of me, an anger that had laid dormant until now.

"Bet you thought you'd never see a Malfoy defend a muggleborn? You are all as bad as him." I threw my thumb in the direction of Draco, who stood, threat forgotten, laughing and joking with his goons. With that, I threw my broom to the grass, and stormed back towards the castle, ignoring Madam Hooch's cries to call me back.

Upon entering the castle and on the verge of tears, I ran straight to the Transfiguration Classroom and where I knew Professor McGonagall to be. I knocked quietly on the door, and the silence that followed made me convinced she hadn't heard it. Hand poised to knock again; I was stopped by a noise from the room and a lovely Scottish voice calling "Come in."

I strode in to see Professor McGonagall sitting at her desk situated at the front of the classroom. Her desk was awash with parchment, quills and ink. I felt a pang of guilt for interrupting her.

"Sorry to bother you Professor but I have something I'd like to ask and it is kind of urgent." I settled into the chair opposite her desk at her gesture towards it, fidgeting with my hands. I hated the quake in my voice which betrayed me.

Professor McGonagall looked up at me with concern in her eyes, "Aquila," she asked softly, "Should you not be in class right now? Do you not have Quidditch?"

Thrown off slightly for a second in sheer amazement that she knew my timetable I stuttered out my answer, "Y-y-es but I needed to talk to you."

"Do you have permission?"

I trembled under her gaze, "No but-"

"Well I suggest you go back, and ask for permission."

"But I-" I stopped, knowing it was pointless, "Yes Professor." I spoke miserably, and dragged myself out the chair and towards the door. On the threshold, a sudden urge stopped me and turned me back towards her. She looked at me, quizzically, obviously wondering why I hadn't left.

"Professor, I really feel I'm not suited for Gryffindor. The whole house hates me."

"That's not true Aquila, you've clearly made friends with Miss Granger."

"Yes but, they all hate me. Every single one." I whispered this brokenly, staring down at my shoes so as not to cry openly in front of the Professor. I heard a flurry of movement and before I knew it she stood beside me, wrapping an arm round my shoulder and handing me a tissue. It was such a motherly gesture, one so alien to me, that I almost burst into sobs.

"Now Aquila. We do not want any of our students to be miserable. The Sorting Hat has never made a change in its decision but I can… see what I can do."

"Thank you Professor." I murmured.

The rest of the day was spent walking idly through the corridors. I had no desire to go find Hermione who would probably ask what a mudblood even meant, or if she had found out never want to speak to me again upon realising my brother used that very term to describe her. I had no wish to be taunted and bullied all over again by the rest of Gryffindor. And I certainly had no desire to step into Defence Against the Dark Arts and deal with Professor Quirrell's stammer. It all just seemed too much. I prayed to God that Professor McGonagall managed to change the Sorting Hat's decision, or better yet say they couldn't and that I would have to transfer elsewhere, Beuxbatons perhaps. Where no one knew of my family nor cared.

Finally, as the day grew darker and the air grew colder, I dragged my heels back to the Gryffindor common room. It was time to try dash through the common room and into my bed before anyone tried to trick me or prank me, or even worse call me names to my face. As I always did when approaching the common room, I formulated a plan in my head of how to get through the room and into my dorm as quick as possible.

"Caput Draconis." I muttered idly to the Fat Lady, who nodded her assent and let the portrait swing wide so I could clamber in. I picked up the pace, looking down at the ground. Making eye contact always seemed to provoke them.

"Aquila! Aquila wait!" a hand grabbed me and stopped me from rushing to my haven. Looking up, I saw Lavender Brown. I only knew her through the fact she liked to throw paper birds at my hair and laugh when I got a potion wrong. I looked down at our joined hands, then looked up again, completely confused and wary of what would happen next. My confusion reached even greater heights as I looked past her at what seemed like the whole of Gryffindor crammed into the common room, all wearing apologetic expressions.

"Look, we just wanted to say… well." Lavender started, then let go of my arm to scuff her shoes, suddenly shy.

"We're really sorry for the way we've treated you recently Aquila. You've shown us today that you are not like any ordinary Malfoy." Harry Potter stepped forwards and looked me in the eye. He had never been actively involved in the pranks played on me, but yet I didn't feel surprised that he would be the one to lead the apology. Something about him struck me as the type who stood by morals and proper behaviour.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry about all the stuff I've said. It's just your dad has always been mean to my family and I didn't think you'd be any different than that Draco git." Ron had stepped forward but was swiftly elbowed in the side by Hermione, obviously realising that upon insulting my twin he should probably shut up.

"It was Hermione who fought for you as well you know." A boy with a strong irish accent stood forward and nodded towards my friend, "She got quite angry for you!"

I looked towards Hermione and mouthed my thanks, but she only smiled happily in return.

"So, what we really want to know is will you forgive us?" Harry looked at me with beseeching eyes, and I thought about rejecting their apology to see them grovel for a while. Deciding against it, I grinned, "But of course!"

_Elsewhere in the castle, _Minerva McGonagall was speaking to Albus Dumbledore about the very girl who currently stood being collectively hugged a few floors below.

"So she wants to move houses? Do you want me to speak with the Sorting Hat?"

Minerva grinned, "No, I think not."

Albus smiled up at her, "You never had any attention to ask me to change the Sorting Hat's mind did you?"

Looking out into the dark through the stain glass window, Minerva took some time before answering, "Not really, this girl is more than capable of handling herself. We haven't seen the last of Aquila Malfoy as a Gryffindor, I don't think."

**A/N: Bleh. I kind of like this chapter but kind of don't. It's a long one I wrote in a big jumble as I was suddenly hit by inspiration. Any typos and such I'm sorry for, but I just wanted to get it written and up! As ever, please review! If you review, I promise the next chapter up ASAP. **


	5. It's Wingardium Leviosa

**A/N: Just one thing I'd like to clear up.**

**It is called Heart of an Eagle, rather than a Lion (which I KNOW is the Gryffindor symbol – please do not think me stupid enough to forget something as simple as that!) because of a few things.**

**ONE : Aquila's name is latin for Eagle, something I had explained already**

**TWO : A very clever someone already worked this out in a previous review, but it alludes to various forms such as POSSIBLY her Patronus and Animagus form.**

**THREE : Various other plot details you'll find out later. Muhaha?**

**Okay, rant over, I just got a bit annoyed that a reviewer (who doesn't have an account so I couldn't reply) thought me not enough of a Potterhead that I wouldn't know Gryffindor's own symbol. If anyone feels it is confusing enough to want it to be Lion, I can change it but I think that would be stereotypical so blah.**

**This chapter is dedicated to "The Agent of Fire" who has been so dedicated to leave me a lovely review at every chapter which honestly brightens up my day and motivates me to write more!**

Unsurprisingly, I began to enjoy school much more now I had more people to talk to. Surprisingly, myself and the rest of Gryffindor got on like a house on fire, especially me and a certain Miss Granger. Considering she was the resident genius of the year and I was the resident dunce, it wasn't something I would have bet on. Then again, I wouldn't have bet on being placed in Gryffindor, yet here I was in the red and gold common room.

It was Halloween, meaning that the amount of tricks being played in each other in the year had increased tenfold. To the mischief makers annoyance however, I had got used to pretty much every prank in the book due to the tricks they had played on me when I was their enemy. That morning, I had elegantly sidestepped a hidden stinkbomb, smiling as I passed it fully aware of the muttered curses from the Weasley twins trying to hide behind a pillar. Unfortunately Neville wasn't so lucky padding along the corridor a little later, and walked straight into it with disastrous results.

Recently Gryffindor had been abuzz with the news that Harry had been made Seeker, the youngest ever to be appointed onto the Quidditch team. Besides my initial wave of jealousy and longing to be able to wear the Gryffindor Quidditch colours, I congratulated him with everyone else. Having stormed off on that fated Quidditch lesson, I hadn't stuck around to see what happened after, and it seemed I had missed an awful lot of drama.

"You should have seen it Aquila!"

"Harry just zoomed off onto his broom and clutched Neville's remembrall out of the sky!"

"When McGonagall came out we thought he was in real trouble!"

Obviously, my brother hadn't been too far from the chaos, in fact being the instigator of it all. A fact which, I thought with a smug grin, he was probably deeply unhappy about considering the fact it led to Harry's position on the team. Then again, he had even twisted that to his advantage, making sure to twist the dagger of jealousy in me by making remarks on my Quidditch ability, of lack of it, in comparison to Harry.

"_Clearly you are not that skilled Aquila if a boy who has never even heard of Quidditch was better than you. Just wait until I tell Father."_

Shaking myself free of the taunts, I looked up to my study partner sitting bent over some massive, old and dusty book. "Hermione, we have charms next. We should probably get going." I gestured for her to get up and move though that was next to pointless to attempt when she got into her work mode. I swear even_ I_ was scared by the determination shown by her towards her studies. When I had first seen her in class, constantly putting her hand up to tell the teacher the answer, and when she wasn't doing that she was fervently taking notes, I thought she was just a bit of a smart-alec. Having become friends with her since then, I realised it was simply sheer willpower to be as smart as she could be. I wished for her resolve, I would perhaps study half an hour then give up as the letters began to swim in front of me. Nevertheless, having shared study periods with Hermione for the past few weeks my grades had improved slightly. Not enough to be the next Hermione Granger, but enough that my teachers were not yelling at me at every chance they got.

Wandering down the corridor (or in Hermione's case, striding out purposefully every so often turning to scold me for ambling so slowly) I watched the paintings around me move and murmur. Though I had grown up with these moving pictures, I could still never quite understand how muggles lived without them. Having once asked my father why they only had still pictures rather than moving ones, I had merely got the non-descript answer of how Muggles were inferior to "us purebloods" and not even half as smart in comparison. You know, the standard speech about "pathetic Muggles" every pureblood child was subjected to.

"Aquila hurry up! We'll be late!" Hermione moaned at me, and I broke into a run. If we were late whatever punishment Professor Flitwick handed out would pale in comparison to what the resident Gryffindor braniac would do to me. Screeching through the corridor, I ignored the smirk of the older years hanging about who clearly thought we were little eager first years who were petrified of missing class. Under any other circumstances I'd have loved to stop and explain to them it wasn't my record I was worried about, but Hermione's. I knew how much these years at Hogwarts meant to her, not only to prove to herself that she was just as good as any child born of a wizarding family, but also to make her family proud that they made the right decision in supporting her going into a completely different world.

We arrived to Charms just in the nick of time, though the only seats left were those placed right beside Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. My stomach balked slightly at the thought of having to sit near the Boy Who Lived, not due to the Malfoy in me, but rather what he would think of me upon realising I had the IQ of a flobberworm. Part of me ached to impress them both, yet part of me wanted to pay them no attention at all. Though Ron had apologised, I still felt a slight wave of animosity towards not only me, but also Hermione. Perhaps it was linked to the fact Ron was constantly being shown up by Hermione in class, and anyone who didn't know her as well as I claimed to, might think that was because she was trying to be the teacher's pet and embarrass everyone else in the process.

Stepping into the classroom, I saw Professor Flitwick beside the board at the front. Saying that, the only reason I could even spot him beyond the desks was because he stood upon a pile of precariously placed books that looked as though they could topple at any second. Professor Flitwick was believed to be part goblin, though we thought it impolite to ask, and possibly the most knowledgeable man in the whole of Hogwarts, excluding Dumbledore of course. I remembered his first lesson with us. Upon calling my name out on the register he had looked up, masking his surprise that a Malfoy was in Gryffindor with a sudden curiousity, and the embarrassment under his gaze that had manifested within me still stuck. I could not fathom why people thought that because I had been placed in a house other than Slytherin it meant I was going to do something spectacular. They'd be waiting a _long_ time in that case. Still, his reaction to my name was nothing in comparison to Harry's, upon which he let out a little squeak and toppled off his pillar of books. Composing himself, and setting up his stack of books once more, he shushed the class which had descended into giggles and continued with his lesson.

Today, we continued with learning the charm _Windgardium Leviosa. _In my case, learning was the optimistic word, more like trying desperately then failing miserably. Still, the Professor always gave me praise for even the slightest thing I did right, and his praise gave me reason to keep trying if only to earn more of his quiet congratulations. Looking round, I had to concede that at least I wasn't doing as badly as Seamus was a few rows down, who had succeeded in setting his feather on fire.

Ron was shouting at his feather by this point, screeching "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA! WINGARDDDDIUMMM LEVIOSAAAAAAA!" which only succeeded in making nearly everybody else flinch at the loudness of his voice. Hermione snapped and swivelled towards him.

"You're saying it wrong!" She cried exasperatedly, "Its Wing-_gar_-dium Levi-_o -_sa. Make the _gar _nice and long."

"You do it then if you're so clever." Ron snarled and with no more than a roll up of her sleeves and a little cough to compose herself, Hermione's feather was floating to the ceiling. I knew the reason for this was that she had been practicing the wand incantation until her fingers went numb in the small hours of the morning before. However her magnificent demonstration seemed to do nothing but incite Ron's anger further, and by the end of the lesson his bad mood hung around his like a shroud.

Pushing their way out into the crowded corridor after, I overheard Ron talking to Harry.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her." He moaned to Harry, "She's a nightmare, honestly."

I cringed inwardly and hoped to Merlin Hermione hadn't been within hearing range. However upon being brushed into by a ball of fuzzy brown hair, who consequently bumped into the two boys, I realised she had. Catching a glimpse of tears on her face, a rage built up in me, similar to the one I had felt that day on the Quidditch pitch.

"I think she heard you." I heard Harry mutter, ashamed, to Ron.

"So?" Ron said, though I could see he looked uncomfortable. "She must have noticed she's got no friends."

Walking up to them both, I grabbed Ron by the collar and hissed, "She's got me." Letting him go, I ran towards where I had seen Hermione leave, sparing not a second thought for the two first years that had made my best friend cry.

For the rest of the day I hunted throughout Hogwarts for a very upset Miss Granger. As I ran, I realised just how much of a maze the school really was, often having to duck out of sight as teachers past who would surely question my being out of class.

_Someone really needs to make a map of this place, perhaps with the whereabouts of the teachers so I don't end up losing ten points for Gryffindor being caught by Professor Snape._

Seeing my class spilling out of Transfiguration, I ducked behind a pillar and overheard snatches of conversation.

"I wonder where Hermione has got to?"

"I hope she's alright, she never cuts class."

"That's so unlike the goody-two shoes!"

"I heard she's crying in the girls toilets and wants to be left alone."

Upon hearing that, I sprinted towards the loos, uncaring that the Halloween Great Feast was in the opposite direction, and that I'd be missing what was sure to be a delicious meal. I just needed to find Hermione.

I skidded to a stop inside the toilets with a screech and padded softly along the outside of the cubicles.

"Hermione? It's me, Aquila. Are you alright? I'm sure he really didn't mean it. You know what boys can be like, unfeeling idiots."

I heard sniffing coming from the furthermost cubicle, coming to a stop outside the door.

"Hermione, please come out." I beseeched softly, and was rewarded with the clink of the latch. Eyes red and raw, face blotchy, it was obvious Hermione was still upset at what Ron had said earlier. Upon coming out, she let out a cry which startled me.

"Honestly Hermione it's fine! We'll talk to them and get this all straightened out –" I was cut off by her waving her arm beyond me and garbling incoherently, "What, what is it?" turning slowly with a sense of dread, I screamed at what I saw.

A twelve foot troll that reeked of old socks and mould stood there with a gleam of malice in its dull eyes.

**A/N: Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger! Thought it ended nicely there.**

**As you may have noticed, I am skipping a few scenes, such as the one where they find Fluffy after Draco provokes him into a wizard's duel.** **This is not because I had forgotten it, but more because due to the fact Aquila is in the story, I'm juggling a few things around. Now that Hermione has made friends with Aquila, I thought it a bit strange for her to have been nosey enough to follow the two boys around, and Aquila does not have enough willpower to stay up that late even if she is curious so I felt it OOC for her to do it. Understand that anything that happened in the book I haven't mentioned will either be talked about later in passing by other characters **_**or **_**hasn't happened at all. Feel free to ask any questions you want clearing up!**

**As always, please review! It is around now things start getting exciting for the Gryffindor first years.**


	6. Oy, Peabrain!

**A/N: I don't know why people seem to think I don't like Ron! I love Ron – pretty much everything he said last chapter was actually from the book **_**Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone**_** itself so I'm not bashing him.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character and plotline. Everything you recognise, including to characters, plot, setting and certain lines or scenes from the **_**Harry Potter **_**series, is JK Rowlings.**

Now, I'd never actually seen a troll. I'd heard of them in stories, and I'd even come across them in my reading of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. _But even the illustration and information that I had skimmed over was not enough to prepare me for the actual sight. It was at least twice, perhaps three times my height, the majority of which was made up in its long body rather than short stumpy legs, knobbled at the knees. Swallowing a second scream, I rushed to Hermione's side and skidded under the furthest sink away from the beast, hoping it would move along and leave us alone.

If I had paid more attention to the book however, I would have realised that this particular sub-species, the mountain-troll to be exact, was the least friendly and most violent. Its head was tiny in proportion to the rest of it, like a shrivelled up prune. As it swiped the sinks, one by one, I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable, clutching onto Hermione's hand so hard I was sure to leave marks.

"Confuse it!" I heard a familiar voice cry, the noise echoing off the wall, and immediately my eyes flew open. Standing at the mouth of the room were Harry and Ron, both looking desperately at the scene. My relief that someone else had arrived was quenched by the paralysing fear that we had only led yet more people to their death. The only thing I remembered about trolls was that very few lived past a meeting with one. Upon hearing the noise, the troll stopped a few feet away from us, and, upon swivelling its tiny little eyes, made a move towards Harry. I shrieked, petrified Harry would die for us and it would be our entire fault.

"Oy, pea-brain!" Ron chucked a metal pipe that had been lying in the remnants of a crushed sink at the monster. Despite the fact the pipe was about 3 feet along and had caused Ron a struggle to even chuck it at the beast, the troll hardly felt the steel cracking against its shoulder, but it heard the noise and turned towards Ron instead. Harry darted round it while it was temporarily distracted and grabbed both me and Hermione.

"Come on, run, _run_!" he cried exasperatedly and while I leapt up to follow, Hermione was rooted to the spot, unable to move for the terror. All the commotion however had seemed to drive the troll beserk and so with a garbled yell of anger stormed towards Ron.

It was at that point Harry did something both very brave, but incredibly stupid. Letting go of our hands, he ran towards the twelve-foot creature and leapt onto its back, lodging his wand up the troll's nose in the process.

The howling pain from the troll that followed was definitely not due to Harry's presence on his back which he probably barely felt, but more due to the incredibly painful bit of wood shoved up his right nostril. My heart in my mouth, I watched the troll spin wildly as Harry held on with white knuckles, any minute I would hear the sickening crunch of bone as the club the troll was holding would connect with Harry's skull.

Completely transfixed and unable to move an inch, I didn't pay any particular attention to Ron about three feet from me, whipping out his wand and screeching _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

Turning to him upon hearing his incantation, I was about to ask him what on earth he thought he'd achieve with a levitation spell, it was only then I realised the club the troll had been holding had been yanked up into the air as if with a piece of invisible thread. Suspended there for the moment it took the troll to realise it was missing, it slowly turned back down to earth both due to the irresistible pull of gravity and the lack of finesse from the spell maker, and landed on its owners head with a sickening crack. Upon connection with its head, the troll swayed for a moment, then landed face down beside its club with a thud that caused the ground to shake.

The thud seemed to jolt us all back into reality. Hermione stood up beside me, legs shaky, whilst Harry got up from sitting on the troll and shook the dust off his robes. Ron was still stood there, wand still held out as if disbelieving his crazy plan had even worked.

"Is – is it dead?" I called out, unwilling to step any closer, even if it was just to get round the other side.

"I don't think so," Harry spoke up, retrieving his wand, "Just knocked out. Urgh troll bogies." He wiped the gloop on the troll's trousers.

A sudden thunder of loud footsteps stopped us from trying to make sense of what just happened. In the heat of the moment I hadn't realised that of course the crashing and trolls roars would have made for a very loud commotion and a moment later Professor McGonagall stormed into the room. Closely followed by Snape, with Professor Quirrell (who taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, though I could never get past his stutter) bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the fallen troll and gasped, having to sit down on a partly broken toilet seat clutching at his heart.

Whilst I had perhaps hoped, for a minute, that we would be paraded as heroes and given a hundred points for Gryffindor due to our actions, that pipe dream was quickly crushed by the thinly veiled fury in McGonagall's eyes and the determined, angry set of her lips.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" her voice was quiet, which made me even more ashamed, hanging my head low. I could deal with unabashed, roaring, ferocious anger that ended in a beating or being sent to my room for a week. I was used to that. But this disappointed rage was so much worse. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why weren't you in your dormitory?"

I shrugged my shoulders back and spoke with a small, yet unafraid voice, "Please, Professor McGonagall, they all came looking for me." The Professor's eyes swivelled to me, and I couldn't help register the shock in Snape's.

"Miss Malfoy!"

"I went looking for the troll on my own because – well – I wanted to prove I was a Gryffindor. I thought I knew enough about them. My father," my voice choked on the word and the memory, "even invited one round once, though it was only part-troll." My voice faded as my courage ran out.

"If they hadn't found me," I waved to the three standing watching me dumbstruck, "I'd definitely be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose, and Ron knocked it out whilst Hermione distracted it. They would have fetched someone, but they didn't have time. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

To give credit to the three who hadn't heard this story before I uttered it, they tried to look as if it wasn't completely new to them.

"Miss Malfoy, I expected so much better of you, you foolish girl. Five points will be taken from Gryffindor and if you are not hurt in any way at all I suggest you get back to Gryffindor Tower, students are finished their feasts in their houses."

With my head hung low, I left the room and made my way up to the Tower. Upon reaching the common room, after muttering "pig snout" to the Fat Lady in order to get in, I waited for the other three to arrive.

When they did, we stood awkwardly for a moment, Hermione reaching my side and giving my hand a squeeze in appreciation. Finally, the silence was broken by a very embarrassed "Thanks", enabling us to head towards the food.

But after that moment, the four of us became firm friends. There are some things you can't share without liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll was one of them.

_Meanwhile_, Minerva McGonagall had finally cleared up the mess that was left, alongside Albus and Severus. Quirrell had claimed an awful headache and left almost immediately after the children did. Minerva shook her head. _How _that cowardly man had ever gotten the DADA job was beyond her, but there was always a method to Albus' madness, and she trusted him with his judgement. Nodding towards the other two, she departed for her bedroom, glad that the day was over.

The two left watched her retreating figure.

"You know there is no way Aquila went searching for the mountain troll on her own." Severus quietly uttered to Albus, "I know the girl, she is not one who would go out seeking trouble, especially from something the rest of her family are so familiar and even friendly with."

"I know." Was Albus' only answer and Severus grew angry.

"But what are we going to do about it?" He hissed, "We have to protect her especially. You know what Lucius will do to her upon hearing she had a hand in disposing of one of the Dark Lord's allies!"

Albus turned to Snape with a glint of mischief in his eyes, "Why, do you care for the girl Severus?"

Snape's eyes grew cold and his lips made a thin line of contempt, angry that perhaps Albus had understood him so quickly, "Of course not Albus, I'm merely saying that there is of course a reason the girl was sorted into Gryffindor and I think the minute the Dark Lord hears of it, if he hasn't already, he will want to know what the reason for that is!"

Albus patted Severus on the shoulder, as you would calm a small child after another had stolen his toy, "Severus, if that is the case, then we can only wait."

**A/N: Hope you don't mind me ending it there even though it was essentially only one scene. I thought about severely editing the troll scene now Aquila was in it but I feel she would have reacted just the same as Hermione did, and I felt any involvement from her in that scene (aside the 'confession' at the end) would have come across too Mary-Sueish. Plus I loved the way the original scene redeemed Ron, so I wanted my version to do the same.**

**Hope you liked the added bit at the end. I have so many plans for Severus and Minerva and Albus that my mind is nearly overflowing with the excitement. Expect a lot of updates in the next month or so!**

**As always, please review and I swear I will update faster!**


	7. Dreamless Sleeping

**A/N: Yup, another update so soon after the last! This was published the same day as the previous chapter so you may have missed it. Just in case, GO BACK! CHECK YOU'VE READ IT BEFORE YOU READ THIS. **

**Just really gotten into the swing of things and very excited for what is to come which has spurred me to just writing constantly. I know normally you probably wait a few days to get lots of hits and reviews or whatnot but I really wanted you to read this chapter and I hate holding reviews over people's heads – though I love to read them so please do take the time to review this once you are done!**

**Disclaimer: I own only my character and plotline. Anything you recognise, including characters, scenes, lines and dialogue from the **_**Harry Potter series **_**belong to JK Rowling.**

Quidditch season had begun. I noted this with a mixture of excitement and envy, the longing to be on the team almost too much to supress. Instead, I fuelled this into making sure Harry (hopefully) paid no heed to the disparaging comments, made primarily by Slytherin, on his Quidditch ability. Though Harry was often absent from the common room after lessons were over in order to practice on the pitch for the upcoming match this didn't prevent the fact that, as a quartet, we had grown considerably closer.

"Thank God for Hermione." Harry said to me quietly beside the fire one evening, "I think I would have died attempting to get through all my homework and practice Quidditch without her help." I nodded my agreement, Hermione had been increasingly helpful and tolerable with my incredibly low attention span, helping me study and I was seeing a distinct raise in my grades because of it. Even Ron was benefiting from just sitting near the braniac as she worked. However I think the professors relief that we were doing so well was probably negated by the apprehension that we would cause mischief.

The next day at break we all stood in the courtyard huddled round a jam jar Hermione had produced a blue flame within, keeping us all warm. I suddenly felt an awful sense of foreboding. Looking round, I saw Professor Snape _limping _across the cobbles. Muttering to the other three, we moved closer together around the jar, sure we'd be punished if it was spotted. Still, clearly something in our sudden movement made Snape suspicious, and he loped towards us with his eyes narrowed. Luckily he hadn't seen the fire, but I doubted that would make a dent in his determination to get us in trouble for something.

"What's that you've got there Potter?" Unfortunately he _had _spotted the book Harry held under his arm, the copy of _Quidditch through the Ages _Hermione had lent him. Harry reluctantly took it out from underneath his arm and showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside of school." Snape sneered, and looked towards Aquila for a moment as he spoke. My head suddenly felt fuzzy, as if there was something I should remember about my potions master, "Give it to me, five points from Gryffindor."

As he limped away, I desperately tried to recall what I remembered about him. Muted voices washed around my head, and memories that had been blurred beyond recognition. I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew him somehow.

"He just made that rule up." Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away, jerking me back to reality, "Wonder what is wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him." Said Ron bitterly, causing both me and Hermione to nod in agreement.

Later that evening we sat together in the noisy Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione looked through our Charms homework ("No I won't do it for you, how will you learn?") and attempted to show us where we had gone wrong, though my mind wasn't focused on the various errors in pronunciation of spells instead determined to sift through my memories in order to understand why Snape seemed so familiar. Harry seemed equally restless, though to be fair it was his first ever Quidditch match tomorrow, so he had reason to be worried. After about twenty minutes of him incessantly fidgeting beside me, I snapped.

"Oh for the love of Merlin Harry what is the matter?" I asked, exasperated.

"I think," Harry wavered then stood up, determination obviously setting in, "I think I'm going to go get my copy of _Quidditch through the Ages._ I'll be fine now right?"

Ron shrugged, "Rather you than me." At that, Harry left us to our own devices, clearly heading for the staff room.

The thirty minutes or so Harry was absent for wasn't that exciting. Ron and I got increasingly frustrated at the fact we couldn't complete a successful Charms homework to save our life, though we were gently prodded in the right direction by Hermione who had finished all her homework about five minutes after Harry left.

Just before Ron and I successfully bored ourselves into a coma a breathless Harry came skidding up to us.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked, clearly relieved to be free of homework even if just for a short while, "And what's the matter?"

In a low, hushed whisper, Harry told us what he'd seen. Clearly, this made more sense to Ron, whose eyes widened as Harry got further into the relaying of his excursion. However Hermione and I just felt more and more confused as he progressed.

"You know what this means?" he finished excitedly, "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him Ron – he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick _he _let that troll in – to create a diversion!"

Ron nodded enthusiastically, leaving us at a loss.

"Hold on." I spoke urgently, "What on earth are you talking about? What three-headed dog?"

Ron and Harry looked at each other, obviously mentally deciding whether they should tell us.

"Okay." Ron spoke up first, "On the day of our first Quidditch practice. You know Aquila, the one you stormed off at." I flushed at the memory, but he didn't stop for long, only pausing to catch his breath, "Well that day Draco, your brother, challenged Harry to a midnight duel which turned out to be a trap, obviously he was hoping Filch would catch us." I shook my head in disbelief that Draco could be so cunning. Then again, he was our father's son, right down to the bones, "Anyway, as we hid from Filch we discovered a three headed dog behind a door on the forbidden third floor. And let's just say it wasn't too happy to see us." As he paused, Harry continued.

"In the few moments we were in there, we spotted a trap door that it was standing on. It is clearly guarding something!"

"And so Snape must have been after it!"

Hermione had seemed to keep up with this story much quicker than I had, as I was still reeling from the fact my brother had been such a little snitch.

"No, he wouldn't." Hermione said, "I know he's not nice but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly Hermione, you think all the teachers are saints or something," Ron said with a trace of exasperation. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

I went to bed that night with the same question, and with the day's events burnt into my memory I tried to make sense of it all. Why would Snape try get at something Dumbledore wanted hidden? Why would he endanger us students in the process? And why couldn't I remember those blurry, muted memories? I slipped into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

**HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP**

"_Albus," _Severus stood in Dumbledore's office, grimacing as he put too much weight on the injured leg, forgetting it was painful, "Why is it that Aquila doesn't remember me? Surely she would have told the others how she knew me before now."

"Ah Severus," Albus shut the book he was perusing with a snap and Severus caught a glimpse of the title, smiling inwardly as he realised it was not in fact a book, but a Honeydukes Sweet Catalogue. "I was wondering when you would ask that question. I knew that upon Aquila being sorted into Gryffindor, it could pose a problem to what we hope to fulfil, what with you being undercover." He grinned at the use of that word, "Ah that makes me think of the Muggle _James Bond _stories Minerva often buys me…."

"Albus, you were saying." Severus gently coaxed him back to the matter at hand.

"Yes, anyway, I thought it best we perhaps blur a few memories. Not obliviate them, for at such a young age I fear one for her mental health and two for my morals if I attempted to complete such a task. No, rather than that, I _altered _her memories so the ones of you were blurry rather than completely gone. I didn't want to leave her with blank sections in her mind. However I now ask you to keep contact with Lucius to a complete minimum and contact him saying you performed an Obliviate charm on her to forget you, so as she can't aid the boy." Albus overrode Snape's complaints, "You must do this for me Severus. It is the only way."

Snape sighed, "This web of deceit grows even more tangled Albus. We must hope it doesn't catch up with us before we succeed."

**PLEASE READ THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE!**

**A/N: One thing I want to explain. I didn't want to**_** obliviate**_** her memories of Snape, though I could have done, as this will be useful at a later date and I could not justify her somehow breaking a proper erasing Memory Charm produced by the most powerful wizard of all time later on without again, her appearing rather Mary Sueish. JK Rowling herself had said Hermione didn't use an Obliviate memory charm on her parents but rather a memory **_**altering **_**charm and that is what I used here. Hope that makes enough sense!**

**Also, I had a PM from an anonymous person demanding to know when the romance would kick in. I know one of the genres is romance but that will happen with time, definitely not within the first chapters (and possibly not even my first 'book'). I apologise that it won't be happening soon but I've read so many where the OC character is acutely aware of Harry in a romantic way from the very beginning and vice versa leading to a pathetically unrealistic relationship started way too soon when they are way too young which bugs the hell out of me. The experience I've had is that romance comes **_**out **_**of friendship and I am not going to rush that at all, I feel it would spoil the story. How many people do you know that started a relationship at age eleven (by that I mean proper romantic relationship, not just a friendship that blossomed into a relationship) and are still happy ten or twenty years on? **

**The next chapter will be the first Quidditch match plus possibly even right up to Christmas break which should be interesting. Could you possibly, in your review (even if it is only dropping a note to say Yes or No to this idea) let me know whether you want her to go home for Christmas or you want her to stay at school (thus experiencing the Mirror of Erised etc.). I'm not particularly bothered either way and have contingency plans for either, but would like to know what you think.**


	8. The Wronski Feint

**A/N: Hello again! So soon after my other chapter, again! As I said before, please go back and check you have read the previous chapter (which was the gang's brush with Snape) before you read this! I realise that updating so often probably isn't helpful but I might not be able to update all of June due to our theatre run and the fact our theatre company is going away on tour / on a trip! So I'm trying to make up for my probable absence.**

**TWENTY NINE REVIEWS BUT THIRTY PEOPLE ON ALERTS? This makes me sad – please leave a review even if only one line!**

**Disclaimer: I own only my character and plotline. Anything you recognise, including characters, scenes, lines and dialogue from the **_**Harry Potter series **_**belongs to JK Rowling.**

After a fitful night of sleep, you would have expected to think I would have slept in and probably missed breakfast, but this was never to be the case under Hermione's watch who sat on me at some ungodly hour that morning eliciting a string of curses from my mouth that would have made Professor McGonagall blush. Sluggishly going through the motions, I dragged myself into the Great Hall, still rubbing my eyes and yawning.

"Wow, someone looks really upbeat this morning." One of the Weasley twins, I couldn't distinguish between Fred or George, teased as me and Hermione passed them. I sent them a withering glare and continued walking towards where Harry and Ron sat.

The Weasleys twins and I had formed a slightly uneasy and awkward friendship, though to give them credit it was probably very hard to even talk to the daughter of a man who had ridiculed their family, flaunted his wealth and operated as a known Death Eater. The rub of which lay in the fact it was impossible to prove Lucius Malfoy had any connection to the First Wizarding War. There was one thing my father was good at, that was being as slippery as the snake that glittered menacingly on every Slytherin banner. Still, I knew that friendship came with time, especially one between two families with such a hostile history and so I was content being the kid who hung out with their younger brother, and they were content teasing me as such.

Sitting down at the table with a thud I looked at Harry who sat opposite me. He was pushing bits of toast, fried egg and bacon round his plate, his hand revealing his nerves as it shook.

Ron seemed completely oblivious to Harry's turmoil, shovelling strips of bacon into his mouth with a vigour I would have previously reserved for only starving children. Glancing towards Harry, he sighed and swallowed the mouthful of meat before saying, in a concerned tone, "You've got to eat _some_ breakfast." Hermione and I nodded in agreement.

"I don't want anything." Harry said and we would have almost believed him if it hadn't been for his stomach betraying him and growling loudly. His lips set into a thin line that I had come to know as the moment his mood turned for being stubborn.

"Just a bit of toast," Hermione wheedled, desperately trying to convince him.

"I'm not hungry."

I could almost understand his nerves, though my own were not on the same scale. I remembered the first time I had played Quidditch in front of Father. Desperate to gain some recognition I had pulled into performing a Wronski Feint. At seven years old, I almost pulled it off until the lure of gravity became too strong and instead of pulling up I hit the ground. It was then I broke my first broomstick, and then my Father lost all interest in me. I grasped Harry's hand and squeezed it briefly, wanting him to understand I was there in moral support even if I couldn't summon the words to demonstrate as such. He met my eyes quickly and nodded his thanks.

"Harry you need your strength," called Seamus from across the table. "Seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team."

The irish boy found himself on the end of a three-way fiery gaze from me, Hermione and Ron, and so quickly shut up (which was a miracle in itself, he was well known for his smooth talking).

Harry was oblivious to our unspoken warning to the fellow first year, "Thanks Seamus." He called quietly, looking back down to his plate.

By around eleven the Quidditch stadium was full as students rushed to find the best seats. I was squeezed in between Hermione and Dean as Neville, Ron and Seamus discussed whether the cold weather would have an impact on the flying and visibility. As a group we had assembled one of the bed sheets Scabbers, Ron's rat, had ruined, and painted _Potter for President _on it. Dean, who had a talent for drawing, had also done a large Gryffindor lion underneath the words whilst Hermione showed her growing spell prowess by performing a charm that made the paint shimmer different colours.

Shortly after we had all sat down the stadium began to buzz as Madam Hooch, who Neville had told me was acting referee, came out onto the field followed by each team. The rich red and gold colour clashed terribly with the opposing green and silver, but I suspected that was probably the least of the differences when it came to Gryffindor and Slytherin. I spotted Harry, his black hair gleaming in the shy November sun and sent up a quick prayer that he wouldn't be 'nobbled' as Seamus had put so elegantly earlier that day.

It was obvious Madam Hooch had shouted something at the teams as their attention was on the coach, before a short, sharp blow of her whistle indicated the game was on. Fifteen brooms rose into the air at once in a dazzling display of what I thought was the most spectacular magic to be found anywhere.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chase that girl is, and rather attractive, too –" I grinned at Lee's commentary, a friend of the Weasley twins, Professor McGonagall was going to have an awful time trying to manage him this whole match.

"JORDAN!" Right enough, her following yell of protest reverberated throughout the whole stadium, and she hadn't even needed to use _Sonorus _to amplify her voice.

"Sorry Professor." Lee murmured, though still audible over the microphone, not sounding the least bit apologetic. I listened closely to his commentary just as I watched the play unfold before me, "And she's really belting along up there, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson and – no, Slytherin have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin captain Marcus Flint…"

His voice faded out after a while as I became caught up in the ever-increasing roar from our part of the stadium. I watched Marcus Flint make his way up to the Gryffindor goalposts with my heart in my mouth, unable to prevent myself hissing as he bashed through the Gryffindor defence. However his attempt to score was thwarted by possibly the best bit of man candy Hogwarts had to offer, Oliver Wood. I could hear a collective female sigh ripple through the crowd as the Gryffindor Keeper grinned.

Temporarily distracted, I shook myself and looked for Harry, who was hovering above the game. I had no doubt his eyes were frantically looking for the snitch, but unfortunately the little golden sphere had gone into hiding. Looking back down to the state of play, I was just in time to see Angelina Johnson score through the middle hoop. This was met with whoops of delight from the Gryffindor supporters and moans from Slytherin's. My spirits lifted. _We could definitely win this,_

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!" we called, and squeezed together to give him enough space to join us on the bench. Though I didn't know the half-giant that well, Harry had told us of how Hagrid had rescued him from the dreadful Dursleys (who, by coincidence, sounded as though they would have got along famously had it not been for the little obstacle of being Muggle), and so I had a soft spot already for the man who seemed so far from the refined and distance of the other teachers at the school.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck as he said so, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," Ron moaned, "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'" said Hagrid, and I nodded in complete agreement, overwhelmingly glad my friend hadn't been hit by a Bludger in his brief time on the Quidditch pitch so far. Hagrid raised his binoculars and peered skywards at the speck that was Harry. After he'd lowered them, I politely asked if I could use them.

"Course you can Aquila," Hagrid spoke cheerily and lifted the strap over above his neck, "But be careful, they are rather heavy."

I would have laughed this off but upon being giving the weight of them my hands shook with the effort of keeping them upright. They weighed a ton, obviously designed for a much bigger set of eyes and pair of hands. Lifting them, with some difficulty, to my face, I looked through them at Harry. As Ron had said himself, Harry really hadn't been given much to do so far, and I could almost make out an expression of boredom through the magnification, though his eyes constantly darted around looking for a flash of gold. I was about to set the binoculars down until I heard Lee Jordan cry.

"Wait a moment – was that the Snitch?"

I murmur ran through the crowd, Adrian Pucey dropping the Quaffle whilst too busy looking over his shoulder at the little streak of gold that had screeched past his left ear.

Unfortunately the Slytherin Seeker had seen it too and both he and Harry raced towards it, neck and neck. My hands began to shake, no longer from the effort of holding the binoculars steady, but from the tension as I watched avidly. Harry was faster than the other seeker, almost within reach of the golden ball, putting on an extra burst of speed – I could practically taste victory –

Until Marcus Flint blocked Harry on purpose and caused Harry's broom to spin off course whilst the Gryffindor seeker held on for dear life.

Binoculars forgotten, I joined the rest of the Gryffindor supporters in standing up and screaming "FOUL!" in outrage. Madam Hooch angrily told Flint off and gave a free shot at the goalposts to Gryffindor. But in the commotion, of course, the Snitch was no longer anywhere to be seen.

Dean yelled, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"This isn't football Dean," Hermione gently reminded him whilst Ron asked me what a red card was.

"They oughta change the rules, Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air." Hagrid grumbled. Even Lee Jordan was finding it hard not to take sides.

"So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating –"

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall growled.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul –"

"_Jordan I'm warning you-"_

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession.

Harry had gotten himself caught up in the fray by this point, dodging another Bludger sent incredibly close to his head. We shouted as a team for him to get out of the play and get looking for the Snitch, but the last words died in my mouth as his broom suddenly gave a frightening lurch. For a split second, I thought he was going to fall and screamed. Thankfully he gripped the broom tightly and Ron sighed beside me.

"Wow, that was weird, never seen a broomstick do anything like that before."

"_That's because broomsticks don't do that. Something's wrong." _I whispered, and right enough it happened again. I grasped, white knuckled, onto the binoculars that had been swinging round my neck. The broom seemed to be trying to get rid of him. It was completely out of his control. And suddenly it wasn't just us noticing the strange happenings of Harry's broom. People all over the stands were pointing upwards. For a moment I was relieved that people had spotted it, but another part of me was crippled by the fact it wasn't just us hallucinating.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus asked, his voice a near whisper.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking, "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark Magic – no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At that, Hermione seized the binoculars from me but instead of looking at Harry she pointed them frantically through the crowd.

"What are you doing?" Ron moaned, grey-faced.

"I knew it!" Hermione gasped, "Snape – look."

Ron grasped the binoculars and he looked through one eye whilst I looked through the others. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering non-stop under his breath.

"He's doing something!" I exclaimed, "He's jinxing the broom!"

"What should we do?" Ron began to panic but Hermione patted us both on the shoulder briefly.

"Leave it to me."

Before we could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron and I turned the binoculars back on Harry and I gasped. The broom was shaking so hard it was almost impossible for Harry to continue holding on. The whole crowd was on its feet as the Weasleys tried to fly up and pull Harry from the broom to safety but it was no good – every time they got even close the broom would jump higher out of their reach. Marcus Flint scored five times, but no one even stopped to cheer or moan and the score remained unchanged.

"Hermione, where are you," I muttered and Ron looked at me. If Hermione didn't hurry up we could well see the Boy Who Lived fall to his death today.

After a few tense minutes, my eyes flicking back between the teachers and Harry, I saw a spark at the bottom of Snape's robes go unnoticed and turn into a hungry red flame. Upon realising the warmth coming from his cloak, Snape stood, jostling the other teachers in the process and tried to douse it.

The distraction had worked, all thanks to the wonderful Hermione. The broom stopped its motion, giving Harry the ability to securely settle himself back onto it. Ron prodded Neville and told him he was able to look again, the boy had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the past five minutes.

However I kept my eyes trained on Harry, who had almost reached solid land before he clapped his hand to his mouth. The crowd gasped as one, thinking he was going to be sick and he hit the pitch bowled over on all fours – coughed – I saw something gold flash in his hands.

He shouted something incoherent, but I could only assume that due to the fact the thing he was waving triumphantly was the Snitch, it must be that, and the game ended in uproar. Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

However we avoided the celebrations, instead opting to follow Hagrid down to his hut and sit at the table within it, each holding a cup of very strong tea. Ron was trying to explain what had happened to Hagrid.

"It was Snape," he exclaimed, desperately trying to convince Hagrid who shook his head, "Hermione, Aquila and I saw him. Harry, he was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do something like that?"

We looked at each other, deciding on the course of action. Harry obviously took it into his own hands to tell the truth.

"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid, "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it was guarding."

At this the teapot Hagrid had been holding dropped to the huts floor with a clang. Tea, still hot, spilled out from its spout onto the floor, unnoticed by everyone but Fang who proceeded to try lick it up.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he asked.

"_Fluffy?" _we exclaimed as one.

Hagrid looked uncomfortable, itching the back of his neck, "Well – hes mine – bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year – I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the –"

"Yes?" I said eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," Hagrid spoke gruffly, as if hoping the tone of his voice would send us off. "That's top secret that is."

"But Snape's trying to _steal_ it."

"Rubbish," Hagrid said yet again, "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try kill Harry?" Hermione cried. It was true that the events seemed to have changed both our minds about Snape. Having seen him obviously muttering whilst his gaze was fixated on Harry was more than enough proof for us.

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid. I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!" she continued, all the while Hagrid's head shaking was getting more and more vigorous.

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong." Hagrid was getting more and more flustered. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now listen to me, all four of yeh – yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel-"

I pounced on that last name, "Aha!" I cried, "So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved?"

Hagrid looked thunderous.

**HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP-HP**

Up in the castle, in Professor Dumbledore's office, Snape was tending to his wounds whilst speaking furiously to Albus, who stood admiring Fawkes.

"Albus, I know you already asked me to keep an eye on Quirrell but this feels beyond ridiculous. And don't think I don't know it was the Granger girl who set fire to my cloak!" Snape hissed furiously, the burns he had suffered on his legs fuelling his anger.

"Yes Severus." Albus said, rather quietly, which just caused Snape to get angrier. "You know, there are difficult choices we must make as wizards, and I suspect this is one of them. You know of the prophecy of course."

"Yes," Snape spoke slightly bitterly, "_Neither can live while the other survives." _He used finger quotations.

"Paraphrasing slightly Severus but yes you would be right." Albus looked out the stain glass window of his office into the courtyard below. If he really stared, he could see Hagrid's hut, where he was sure his groundskeeper was finding it difficult to keep his mouth shut whilst under the spotlight and being interrogated by four stubborn eleven year olds.

"So," he said, looking his fill then turning to Snape, "Why not give him this chance to weaken Voldemort whilst he is this weak? He may not get another."

And with that sombre note, they both stared at Fawkes.

**A/N: Oh dear that was a long chapter! Hope you don't mind. I know these bits with Snape and Dumbledore are very bitty but they are running in a kind of side story arc and all will be revealed eventually! I love writing the teachers reactions because we never get that in the books, so this is my take on it. Next chapter is Aquila's winter break and back home to the parents… I'm so very excited to write it! BUT PLEASE REVIEW.**


	9. Hogwarts Express

"Now don't forget, when you owl me, which you better do, make sure to tell Hedwig to fly up to the third right window on the fourth floor." I repeated again for the umpteenth time, trying to engrain it into Hermione, Ron and Harry's heads. Though really the repetition was more for the boys sake than Hermione's. I could have told her once and she would have filed it away in that astonishing brain of hers. However for the other two no matter how many times I told them, left it in notes and instructions, they'd still probably tell her the wrong house or room and I'd end up with a thunderous father who would either make me swear an Unbreakable Vow to never talk to Harry Potter again, take me out of Hogwarts, or use the knowledge of me being a friend for his own nefarious purposes.

It was that last possibility which terrified me, and had terrified me so much throughout the term it that had stopped me talking to Draco or replying to the various letters (primarily Howlers) my parents had sent me. Hogwarts had become my sanctuary, seemingly impenetrable to my father's anger. Now having to return to the one place I could never happily call home ate away at my insides making me feel nervous and afraid of what might happen at Malfoy Manor.

"Yes, we get it Aquila." Ron sighed good-naturedly and grinned, "We'll see you and Hermione at the beginning of term." That acknowledgement we'd meet again seemed so simple, but yet the New Year seemed so far away. I smiled in acceptance of our reunion, but worried inwardly whether this was the last time I'd ever see Harry and Ron.

"Please don't get into trouble!" Hermione begged the pair but even I knew that would fall on deaf ears. After the conversation we had with Hagrid we all desperately wanted to know who this mysterious Nicolas Flamel was to Dumbledore and the room on the third floor. Christmas break could not have possibly been more badly timed for now there would be no reasoning from Hermione and no tight leash from me to stop the two of them getting into mischief.

"All students going home for the winter break please follow me to the Hogwarts Express." A reedy voice with a Scottish lilt called out from above us, where Professor McGonagall stood on the stairway. Proceeding to step down and walk past our little group, she called back. "Miss Granger, Miss Malfoy, please say your final goodbyes otherwise the train will leave without you."

"Well, goodbye Ron, Harry." I tried to force a smile from underneath the terror that had stuck itself in my mind. I tried to force out the words _see you next term _but even I couldn't commit to something I might not be able to keep.

Ron smiled and gave me one last hug, Harry doing the same. Though as Harry reached forward, he whispered in my ear "I'll send Hedwig as soon as you get home, look after yourself." He stood back as if nothing had happened while I stood stock still in muted shock. How did he know I'd be forbidden from sending my own owl anywhere and that I worried about going home? I would have replied, if not for Professor McGonagall shouting out once more.

"Miss Malfoy and Miss Granger hurry up now!" she sighed good-naturedly, "You'll see them next term!"

We ran down towards the cluster of students heading home, our bags having already been sent down earlier that day. Clambering into the Hogwarts Express and finding the nearest available carriage, both me and Hermione plastering ourselves to the window to watch Hogwarts fade from view.

_Yes, of course. _I thought to myself. _I'll be back next term._

Yet why did next term seem so far away?

**A/N: I'M BACK. Sorry it's been so long; I was struck with horrific writers block and have been so busy I've barely found time. I ended the chapter here because I thought it fit nicely and means I can start where I wanted to start next chapter. This was a bit of a filler chapter I know but I wanted something fairly quick and calm to get into the swing of things once more! I'll be posting the next chapter within the next couple of days as I've got time off my new job!**

**Please review and I promise to get back to you quicker.**


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